


Scorched

by absolutelyCancerous (cal1brations)



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Comfort Sex, M/M, Sunburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-27
Updated: 2012-06-27
Packaged: 2017-11-08 15:59:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cal1brations/pseuds/absolutelyCancerous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m going to <i>die</i>,” Roxas sighs, pathetically. He’s sitting on the middle of his bed, because his front and his back are too burned for him to lay comfortably on. You, as pale as you are, feel very, <i>very</i> bad for the kid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scorched

“I’m never going there again.”

“Too bad it’s _your job_.”

“No, no. I am never setting foot there again. Ever.”

“C’mon, Rox; it’s really not even that bad.”

You are lying, of course. You know it’s actually very horrible and you’re surprised Roxas isn’t crying or something because holy _shit_ , he’s burned. Like, he’s nearly magenta. Well, at least on the places his cloak didn’t cover.

Which was a very good portion of him, seeing as he took the damn thing off during his mission, apparently.

“It was really hot; so sue me! Not even the people in… sandy-deserted-wasteland-land,” he means Agrabah, “wear much! You expect me to keep on a heavy-duty leather coat in one hundred-ten degree weather? No way.”

Roxas is literally burning red from the roots of his hairline to his waist; thankfully the kid was wise enough to half-undo his coat to tie at his waist. The rest of him simply sweltered instead of **singed**.

“I’m going to _die_ ,” Roxas sighs, pathetically. He’s sitting on the middle of his bed, because his front and his back are too burned for him to lay comfortably on. You, as pale as you are, feel very, very bad for the kid. 

“You are not going to die,” you assure, waggling what is known as “a pale person’s gel-like hero only spoken of as the bliss of aloe vera” in his face with a sympathetic smile. 

You actually didn’t know Roxas could look so excited.

But, you know that making facial expressions hurts like a mother when your face is nearly the same shade of red as your hair. You bite back a laugh as you hand him the bottle so you can peel off your gloves and, hell, while you’re at it, your cloak, too.

“You are my saviour. My knight in shining leather. My mercy angel.”

You laugh outright, snatch the bottle up and carefully start squirting the green gel into your palm. “Who taught you all that? Here, look at me.”

Roxas tries to keep his face as still as possible as your gel-covered fingers rub cool relief on his nose and cheekbones; he ends up sighing out a high-pitched noise that makes you grin.

“I heard Xigbar saying it the other night when he was playing cards with the others.”

Of course. You roll your eyes, spread more aloe into your hands and rub it carefully on Roxas’s face. It makes you feel good (and, alright, maybe it’s kind of arousing, too) each time the little blonde sighs in relief, nearly mewls about how amazing it feels.

When your gel-covered fingerstips brush over Roxas’s burned lips, the kid looks at your with wide cerulean orbs before he gets this lascivious kind of look—wow, it’s actually pretty hot, if you do say so yourself— and parts his lips, almost in a lazy kiss to your hand, the sneaky little thing. You smirk, don’t comment because, hell, it’s not like you’re going to _discourage _him from kissing at you. It’s something you very much enjoy, in fact.__

“Which hurts more, your back or your stomach?” You ask, withdrawing your hands (remorsefully) to get another glob of aloe to rub on him.

“Back, definitely.”

 _Good_ , you think, _great_. You don’t really know how slathering your hands down his chest is going to go; you hope he doesn’t throw a fit or something.

Forgetting worrying over future events, you sink down to sit behind Roxas. You’d like to note how nicely his backside fits against the apex of your legs, although you are most utterly _not_ thinking dirty thoughts, no, you are not some kind of pervert who’s getting a kick out of Roxas’s discomfort. 

You just think it’s worthy to note. That’s all.

Back to the task at hand—you carefully set your slicked hands on Roxas’s scorched shoulders and begin rubbing him down. He sighs blissfully, squirms under your hands (and, to your silent delight, your crotch) and shivers when you trail your cool, sticky fingertips down the reddened bumps of his spine.

“Hooow can I,” sigh, shift on the bed, “ever thank you?”

You grin, hands freshly coated with more soothing gel and rub at the base of his neck in wide, slow circles.

“All that sighing you’re doing is thanking me _just_ fine,” you murmur into his hair cautiously. These are dangerous waters, after all, and with Roxas’s current state, you’d rather not have him mangled anymore than needed. 

He shivers at your words, though, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he tries to look over his shoulder at you.

“Nothing else? I mean,” Roxas pauses, wiggles himself so he’s somewhat facing you with a sneaky smile, “it’s okay if _I_ offer, right?”

You laugh, you really can’t help it, and plant a kiss on Roxas’s still-damp cheek. “Maybe that can be arranged. Turn around so I can do your front.”

He does and you do and really, you didn’t mean for this to be so sexual but he’s got his tongue in your mouth and you’re warming gel in your hands before you can even question your morals and, whoa, when did Roxas get his pants off? You can’t remember, but you do know that his dirty-blonde happy trail makes you snicker—he only keeps it because he’s as hairless as a girl on his face and chest and thinks it’ll make up for that fact.

Roxas is working on your fly as you gather him into your lap. He whips your slacks down and you do the rest, shucking them off and kicking them to the floor before you grin at the cutie in your lap, who smiles right back.

“Sorry,” you apologize prior to you pressing a finger up inside him and he hisses about it being too cold. You smirk, capture his lips in a silencing kiss as Roxas re-settles himself in your lap, slowly gyrating against your fingers. By the time you’ve got the second digit in, he’s mewling those same noises as before against your lips, pressing his slightly-damp forehead to yours as he whispers out shy encouragements. You decide you really can’t hold out for three—besides, that’s pushing it—and withdraw your hand in favor of grabbing your new favorite item to slick up your cock with. Which also makes Roxas squirm in excitement.

“ _Hurry_ ,” he whines outright, it makes you smirk, “my face is drying.”

“Alright, alright, relax,” you assure, making sure to lick your lips generously before planting them against Roxas’s. He’s distracted, you can tell by the way his lips move dumbly against yours, as he struggles to angle himself up enough to guide you inside. Rolling your eyes at the fact Roxas is bull-headed and literally is too stubborn to simply grab your dick and make this whole deal easier, you do it for him, reaching a hand between the two of you to press just the tip inside of him.

Roxas’s reaction is instant.

“Oh, wow,” he splutters intelligently, hooking his arms around your neck and pressing his forehead to yours so he can look down between the both of you; like he might actually see something besides himself sitting in your lap. Slowly, _so fucking slowly_ , he inches down on you until he’s got your entire length surrounded in his delightful warmth. 

“You okay?” You ask, struggling very hard not to just _moan_ about how amazingly tight he is. Roxas doesn’t answer—that’s him being a little brat about “I’m a big boy and I don’t need help”—so you try to sit as still as you possibly can, and rub small circles at his hips to soothe him.

“I lied,” Roxas mumbles, sitting up a little bit. He’s about to tell you what he apparently lied about, but then his eyes are getting wider than wide and he’s gaping in a silent moan and you can’t help but grin like a smug moron at how blissful he looks; close to sweet death (1) if you had to place a name on it.

“You like that?” You purr, pressing your lips right up against Roxas’s ear. You feel him tremble, from the bottom of his spine to the tips of his hair, before he nods and literally _whines_ your name.

“Axel,” he pants against your flesh, drawing up millions of goosebumps, “move, please.”

For half a second, you actually consider telling Roxas that banging isn’t a one-way street, that he’s got to put some effort into it, too, but then he’s rolling his hips in this funky I’m-not-sure-what-I’m-doing-but-this-works-for-me sort of way that makes you spit out a joyous groan. You cup his ass as much as possible, in this position, and help Roxas find the rhythm you begin to set; slow, deep, and cautious.

It’s pretty lame you can’t wrap your arms around him, lest you irritate his sunburns and make him uncomfortable and downright _miserable_. So, you keep your hands low, and settle for stroking him with gentle, nearly-teasing fingers. Roxas pants, gnawing on his lip and smooshing his burning hot cheek up to yours with a whisper of a moan as he grinds down oh-so-deliciously against you.

You actually think it’s precious more than anything when he comes, singing a mantra of your name as he arches his back impossibly, clamping down around you with his essense splattering against your chest and you just can’t—

You end up howling your orgasm a good few (milli)seconds after his.

The two of you sit like that for a good while after, trying to catch your breath. It’s Roxas who sits up first, though, solely because, “where did you put the lotion? Can you put more on, please? My face hurts.”

Since he asked so cutely, anyway. You help him up off your dick, which earns a gasp out of both of you, and pull back a ways so you can see his face better and snatch up the forgotten aloe, applying a fresh coat of relief to his redness. Roxas yawns then, slowly finding a way to lie down without it hurting too horribly, and pats the empty space next to him welcoming you.

“You have to put more on if it hurts too bad tonight,” he warns. You snort, make sure to leave Roxas enough room to be comfortable with his sweltering skin, and kiss his hand gently.

“Promise.”

“Thanks.”

You kiss his hand again, smiling. “It’s just what friends do. So go to sleep.”

.-._.-._.-.

Roxas wakes you up twice during the night; you’re happy to rub him down (in more ways than one).

.-._.-._.-.

(1)- “sweet death” is when someone literally dies during sex, usually because of an underlying health condition, i.e: a heart attack or stroke, etc.


End file.
